My Life In Watercolor: Vogel's Records

Did you know that a retail store can change your life?

It's hard to express in a way that would make people understand how a retail store can mean so much to me (and to so many others).

I'm struggling to put into words what music meant to me then (and now). It has been a lifelong love affair - thanks, in large part, to having the greatest record store "uptown", just a short bus ride or bike ride or long walk from home.  The love affair started with the purchase of so many 45s, eventually progressing to albums.  The first one I bought there, on my own with my own allowance money, age 13, was The Runaways because - oh my God! - Cherry Bomb. Can't stay at home, can't stay in school.

I remember that my mother surprised me with the Frampton Comes Alive album around that same time that she purchased at Vogel's. A double album!  I'd died and gone to heaven.  Do you feel like I do?

I particularly recall many trips to Vogel's with my friend Cathy, who had this really cool liquid blue eyeshadow that was all shimmery and you painted it on your lids with a brush. I was mad jealous of that eyeshadow but she shared it generously and we painted our eyes and set off to Vogel's to buy KISS albums because we were oh so cool like that.

You pushed open the door of that store, stepped inside, and your little world expanded on a soul level which sounds dramatic but isn't if you, too, have had a lifetime love affair with music.

What a great thing to have grown up in the era of great music...readily available at great record stores like Vogel's.

My Life In Watercolor: Spirito's Restaurant

My love affair with my hometown of Elizabeth, New Jersey, continues (in watercolor).

Here we have the famous Spirito's Restaurant which, sadly, no longer exists.

I'm still having a hard time accepting that. 

How do you say goodbye to the place you've been going to since the 1960s? 

The place you went for every special event growing up or just because you wanted the best Italian food (even though they didn't serve butter with the bread)? 

The place you drove to with your girlfriends when you first got your license, age 17, and pushed our luck when we ordered "Bacardi and Coke" because we didn't know what else to order and they actually served us? 

To never again sit in one of their wooden booths with their formica tabletops and the low lit wall sconces at every table? 

Oh, the bittersweet memories!

They recently filmed the movie "Nonnas" at the already closed Spirito's. There's a couple of scenes where you can still see the ghost of what Spirito's was when it was open. You should watch it.

It might be gone now, but it will not ever be forgotten. 

That's the thing about being from Elizabeth...these places are somehow in our blood.

My Life In Watercolor: Tommy's Italian Hot Dogs

My grandfather lived around the block from Tommy's, on South Street (maybe you remember the gray house with pink shutters? lol) in Elizabeth, NJ.

I have a very clear memory of walking with him, hand in hand, to Tommy's - it had to be just after they first opened because my grandfather died in 1970.

Grandpa used to take me for walks all through what we Elizabethans know as 'the 'Burg' (aka Peterstown). I can't wait to watercolor more of the places we'd go.

Tommy's Italian hot dogs are amazing but you really haven't lived until you've had their potatoes in a cup.

My Life In Watercolor: DiCosmo's Italian Ice

And here we have my watercolor rendition of DiCosmo's Italian Ice in Elizabeth, NJ.

If you are ages 1-125 and you're from or have been to Elizabeth, NJ...then you have likely had Italian ice from DiCosmo's because that's how long they've been at this location, no joke.

My father used to buy their lemon ice by the quarts so he'd have it after they closed for the season.

You wouldn't believe the love and memories people have for this little place that's been around for generations

My Life In Watercolor: Jerry's Hot Dogs

I've decided to document some of my life (good and bad) in watercolor.

I was lucky enough to have been born and raised in Elizabeth, NJ - just outside of NYC. There are places there that are institutions for anyone who is from Elizabeth. You might think it's weird to honor a hot dog stand but when you've been going there for many decades with every family member, with every boyfriend/friend/husband, and many time just going there by yourself when you needed to touch base with your roots or you just craved the best hot dog there is...well, you'd understand the reverence I, and countless others, have for this place.

Examples: my parents divorced when I was very young and my father moved to North Carolina but would come back for visits periodically. When I was old enough to drive, I'd pick him up from Newark airport (just a few miles from Elizabeth) and we'd head straight to Jerry's where we'd buy way too many chili dogs and then sit on the bench across the street and chow down and catch up, just the two of us.

Then there was the time we actually got my housebound (by choice) mother to leave her apartment to take the hour long drive to Jerry's from where we lived at the NJ shore. She couldn't resist the lure of eating Jerry's, which she'd been doing since she was much much younger. She was hesitant, to say the least, and afraid that her sensitive stomach couldn't handle the hot dogs but we got her to go anyway.
We drove her all around Elizabeth, past all of the places she'd lived, her schools, and other memorable places in her life. All of this culminating with sitting in the pickup truck chowing down on Jerry's. What a day that was! And her sensitive stomach, which would very often act up at the slightest thing, did just fine that day.

Memories of sharing Jerry's with my parents are priceless and are one of the many reasons Jerry's Hot Dogs is much more than just a hot dog stand to me...and those countless others who have similar stories to tell.

The Sky's The Limit

Here's my video featuring the collection of my magical realism artwork that will be 

included in theexhibition "The Sky's The Limit" at the

Syrna Opera House

Dickinson Gallery

Smyrna, Delaware

10.16.25 - 11.14.25

Life Stories: Oreos & A Late Night In An Irish Bar

That time I was in a Manhattan Irish bar very late at night. This was

the kind of place where you had to know someone to be let in after hours.

You walked down about six steps from the sidewalk & entered thru an unassuming

front door.  The music was live, lively & loud. The Guinness flowing.

But I was hungry so I went across the street the the only open place - a bodega.

Bought a box of Oreos & some milk, snuck myself & my snacks back into the bar.

Big, burly, Irish bartender saw me eating, asked what I had.
I thought I was busted & would be asked to leave but instead I spent a very

memorable night sharing my Oreos with Ryan, the not-so-scary afterall Irish bartender.

The Value Of Human Work

What My September Looked Like

Upcoming Event

I was invited to participate in this exhibition which was a pretty big honor.

I've been out of the game for awhile and it's honestly been pretty great getting back into it.

Does this mean I'll go back to creating photo art more regularly again?

Time will tell.

Back To School On The Cul-De-Sac

It's back-to-school week here in these parts which is something I usually look forward to.

I have been working from home for a lot of years writing, editing, art-ing, so when September rolls around I have always looked forward to the return to quiet in the more lively neighborhoods where we've lived. But I've also always looked forward to the morning 'kid noise' as they wait for the bus, or the chatter of the parents with their coffee cups in hand as they see their offspring off. I've even always looked forward to the sound of the school buses as the pull up to their stops on the corners, arriving always at a precise time, say 8:11am or so, like clockwork every day, pun intended.

Except here on the cul-de-sac there is no back to school noise.

I think the few kids who live on this street get driven to school by their parents maybe, but whatever the case, there is no sign of them.  No little groups dressed in their new back-to-school clothes, unscuffed sneakers, stiff backpacks not yet broken in. No squeals of excitement for a new school year, for being back with their friends even though they've been lamenting the end of summer vacation.  

Instead, it's ghostly quiet, like living in a retirement village even though we did actually live in a retirement village a few years back (55+) and while there were no schoolkids or school buses in that village, there was still people noise, signs of life. 

Here?
Not so much.
And I don't like it.

this morning, no signs of life.

I can't get used to living in an area of no life signs.

Yesterday the neighbor had their house power-washed. I was annoyed by the noise of the machine at first but then I realized I was feeling glad to be hearing it, comforted even.  Life. People. Busy workers doing worker things. Less of that alone, deserted feeling.  Today, I can hear the sound of hammering in the distance and, again, I'm comforted.

Yes, I like going out on my back deck and hearing nothing but the birds singing and the cicadas cicada-ing.  I don't want to hear traffic and sirens and horns honking at the tailgating jerks who rule the roads nowadays.

                                                                    view from our quiet deck

But I do want to hear life.  Not noise, but life.
I want to know people have come out of their houses to enjoy the fresh air that's finally here after months of oppressive and depressive heat and humidity.  I want to hear more than sprinklers watering manicured lawns that no one actually uses.

And if I can't hear and see life in my own neighborhood, then I want to be able to go downtown and be amongst the living.
Except we don't have those kinds of downtowns nearby anywhere. 
Why is everyone always inside?

There is, of course, much to be said for quiet neighborhoods. Obviously that is a very desirable feature when one is searching for a home.  

However there is such a thing as too quiet.  Does that make sense?

So it seems the gypsy wind might be starting to stir and shift again, friends.  What does that mean, actually?  I'm not sure. But, as it has in the past, that old restless feeling has started to ever-so-slightly swirl around me.

I've become very aware that I need to throw myself a lifeline.  To rejoin the living.

My July 2025 Calendar